The Forgotten Ones
by L.B.Dreamer5914
Summary: She had hoped to find a man with so much wealth she could lose what was left of her childish fantasies and broken dreams. Standing in front of Bash, she knows those dreams are lost. She doesn't know then about the ones she gains. [KennaxBash]
1. Chapter 1

**The Forgotten Ones**

**Chapter 1**

She isn't sure how she finds herself there, standing in front of a king she thought she loved and speaking vows she doesn't mean to his son, a man she doesn't even know. She thinks this is the end of all of her dreams, her hopes, her fantasies. She had known, of course, that love was no longer on the table for her. Not since Henry lost his mind and she lost her purity. But she had hoped to at least find a man with so much wealth she could lose herself, and lose what was left of her childish fantasies.

Standing in front of Bash, his hands clutching hers and his eyes wild, she knows those hopes and dreams are lost.

"Please. This is marriage. It can't be undone..." She's crying like a little girl, and the words flowing out of her mouth aren't the ones she wants to say, but they are the only ones she can say.

Henry snarls at her, his hand going to his sword and out of concern for her or his own sense of self-preservation, Bash snatches her hands and pulls her closer, saying the vows in a quick clipped business like tone.

And so she becomes the Lady of Horse and Hunt.

* * *

The first night is torture. There's an awkward conversation about sleeping arrangements. She insists on sleeping in her own quarters, but the very next day she finds a group of servants in her quarters boxing up her things. Henry isn't often so thorough, and she hates that he chose now of all the times to show such attention to detail. Head held high despite the tears that spring back into her eyes, she makes her way back to Bash's rooms.

She knocks, because she's still too shaken to be her usual bold self, and it's an endless minute until he finally opens the door.

"Keena?"

She meets his gaze. "I no longer have a rooms."

There's no confusion in his eyes, and he steps to one side to allow her entrance. Her things, she finds, have been boxed up and abandoned in the stray corner's of Bash's sparse room. She swallows and glances back at him, and there's an uncomfortable moment when they both realize exactly what this spells out for them. Bash tries to hide his own frustration, but she's a courtier, and she's learned to read the slight furrow of brows for what it is.

Disapproval. Anger. Frustration.

She knows she isn't what he wants, and she hates him because she also knows she's less than he deserves. Keena won't admit that to herself, of course, but the truth is hiding just beneath the surface and they both know it.

"I'll sleep on the floor," he finally says, reaching for a pillow off the bed.

"Thank you."

He doesn't say anything, just gives her a look of pure pity. She hates him for it.

She finds a nightgown in the third box she opens, and after a slight moment of hesitation she undresses. Her fingers fumbles with the ties of her dress, and she fights the urge to scream. It takes four tugs, but at last the dress falls to her feet and she slips into the more comfortable material of her nightgown.

The bed sheets are soft, comfortable, and fitting of the king's favorite bastard, but they smell foreign. They are a combination of the smell of steel and weapons and gardens. It is a reminder that he is not a lord, and he did not grow up in the shelter of a castle with the manners of a well groomed noble.

She falls asleep listening to him shift left and right on the floor, and fighting a feeling of guilt that she lets him stay there.

* * *

In the morning light, the room seems smaller. She's certain it doesn't help that her things are still spread out across the floor in crates, but the anger that wells up in her stomach takes over all rationality. She tries to use his shaving mirror, but it's far too small for her to get a good look at what she's doing.

She tosses her brush down, "Your shaving table is useless."

Bash glances at her out of the corner of his eye, "We'll have your dressing table and mirror brought in."

He's being reasonable, and she hates him for it. She is not a reasonable person, particularly when angry.

It's their first spat. It isn't their last.

* * *

"Strangely enough, I give a damn about my country."

He rears back slightly at her words, and his eyes as he looks at her are full of disbelief. She knows he was shocked to hear that it was Mary who sent her into the lion's den. On any other day, she might have felt a tinge of remorse over so thoroughly destroying his illusions, but not today. Today she feels only anger, because contrary to what he might think, she is _not _the most selfish woman in all of France and because she's just spent the last three hours of her life in absolute terror while he was being Mary's white knight.

"What was at stake for you?" She demands.

She told him earlier she wasn't jealous. At the time, she thought she meant it. Hearing herself now, she isn't so sure.

* * *

When they share a bed that night, it's because she wakes up screaming. She isn't sure who is more surprised. She can't recall the last time she behaved like such a child, but Henry had cornered her in his quarters, and she had gone to bed feeling lost, alone, and threatened. The memory of his hands on her is no longer pleasant, but revolting. And worse still, the realization that she cannot do anything to stop him.

She brings her hand up to her face, but Bash is already there taking her by the shoulders.

"Keena."

She shakes her head at him, "No, it's nothing."

He shakes her again, this time harder. "_Keena." _He cups her face in his hands, "Breathe," he says, "I'm right here." Without preamble, he settles on the bed beside her, one arm settling around her shoulders and the other pulling her legs over his. "It's alright."

She tries to speak. Tries to tell him that she's fine. Instead, a hysterical giggle escapes her and her shoulders shake with tears.

Bash doesn't say anything, but he does pull her closer.

He doesn't leave her side that night. She doesn't push him away.

* * *

He gives her his grandmother's ring, and the walls she put up crumble a little more. He's right, it's modest and nothing she would have ever thought she wanted. It's also perfect.

Keena sees his face when Penelope demands the ring, and her heart breaks for him. She hates Penelope and Henry right then, for doing this to him. She also feels a very real fear for him, when he appears over her shoulder.

"It isn't right." His expression is furious, and looking at him, Keena has absolutely no doubts that he is mere seconds away from challenging his father.

She puts her hand up to stop him, and as Henry and Penelope walk away, she turns her entire body toward him.

"True, but I'd also like you to live."

The words escape her as they always do. She wonders if he hears the implication behind her statement. The one that screams to her _I care about you_, but Bash does not flinch at her admission. In fact, he doesn't even seem to notice it.

She watches him walk away, and tries to ignore the lingering disappointment in the pit of her stomach.

* * *

He leaves to hunt The Darkness, and she finds her bed is lonely and the room she thought too small, is actually far too large. She will never admit it out loud, but she sleeps on his pillow that first night and every night after. If she closes her eyes and breathes in deep, she can almost pretend he's at her side and his arm is tucked around her waist.

Almost.

The memory of their first kiss plays over and over again in her mind, and she wishes for release. Wishes he was there to give it to her.

Each day without him is a little more painful than the last. Greer keeps her company, distracting her for a little while with her own worries about Leith, Castleroy and her family, but it isn't enough.

"Bash and I," she begins, abruptly and without announcement, "I think… I think I may have feelings for him." She puts a hand to her forehead, then shakes her head, "No, not feelings. Just…"

"Attraction?" Greer smiles at her, "Kenna, he's young and handsome. It's only natural."

"But…" She wants to explain to her friend that this feels anything but natural. The need for him is starting to choke her, and she simply cannot live like this.

"But, nothing," Greer tosses her hair even as she reaches for Kenna's hand. "This is wonderful. If you and Bash were to reach a mutual understanding, so much the better."

She wants to say that they _do _have a mutual understanding. Infidelity with either Mary or the King will not be tolerated. They will be frank and honest with each other always. They will guard each other's interests. The problem is that no where in their mutual understanding does it mention feelings or attraction or anything that might complicate their agreement.

And yet, she cannot seem to push down the need in the pit of her stomach.

* * *

When the kitchen girl tells her that Bash has returned, she very nearly runs the entire way to their quarters with her heart in her throat. But she has not forgotten who she is, and so she slows to a walk and calms her breathing and her heart before arranging her hair and pushing the door open.

As luck would have it, Bash is removing his shirt, and the need she's spent the last weeks decidedly ignoring rears its head and pushes its way into every nerve in her body. She pauses in the doorway, the door closing behind her and tries rather desperately to think of something to say.

"I stopped by our new house on the way back; it needs work before we can live there," he turns to look at her, "especially if we want to bring it to your standards." The corner of his mouth curls up, and his eyes soften in a way that she knows his words aren't sardonic or cruel, but gentle and teasing.

She smiles genuinely for the first time in weeks. There's something about knowing that after two weeks hunting in the forest, he still thought to do something for her. "Bash, that's lovely, but what happened out there? You've been out in the woods for weeks hunting that creature, have you found it yet?"

"The Darkness?" He steps towards her and reaches for her hands, "No sign of it yet, but it's only a matter of time. The blood wood is vast but not limitless," the pads of his fingers trace circles on the backs of her hands. "Have you been alright? I hope there haven't been any more encounters with the King."

"I've been staying out of his way," she replies, inching closer as smile plays at the corner of her lips, "waiting for you to return."

He smiles into her mouth as he closes the distance between them. The very moment his lips touch hers, she swears she feels fire spread through every inch of her body. His hand comes up to cup the back of her head, bringing her closer to him, so that she's pressed up against his chest, but just as she's about to concede all rational thought in favor of kissing him until the end of eternity, he pulls away.

She tries to clamp down the frustration that burns through her, "Why do you stop? It's not our first kiss, you're my husband, it's alright. It's not as though I'm inexperienced."

"I'm well aware of that," the lilt at the end of his sentence is not the same teasing one as before. This tone is dry and frustrated.

"If you wanted a virgin," she pulls away, and already she can feel her walls rebuilding.

"No, I don't," his hands pull her closer, "but I care about your experience and I know, not all of it has been good."

"There's no changing that now," though she wishes there was.

"I disagree," he turns her body around, tucking her back against his chest as he pulls the shawl from about her shoulders. As the air touches her bare skin, she fights the urge to shiver. Then his lips find their way to her neck, and confusion is the only thing that keeps her coherent enough to ask.

"What are you doing?"

He tosses her shawl aside, "Helping you forget everything," their hands come together against her stomach, "and everyone that's come before this." His lips trace the shell of her ear, "Tell me what you want," he whispers, "very specifically. Leave nothing out."

She still isn't entirely sure what he's doing - Henry never asked her opinion - but she's never been shy about saying exactly what she wants. She reaches back for him, her hand cupping the back of his neck as she turns her head to smile at him coyly. "Alright," she says. She speaks the words, and even as she's whispering to him, he returns to his torture of minutes before. His smile grows as she speaks, and his grip tightens as she feels his body react.

Their hands move together down the material of her dress, and finally,_ finally_, his hands find the part of her body that has so ached for him. She gasps, leaning her weight up against him and forgets everything - and everyone - that came before this.

* * *

She almost forgets that she's isn't the only one with a past. Mary is her queen, but she is also the closest thing Kenna has to a sister. The thought of her in Bash's arms honestly makes Kenna sick to her stomach. And worse still is the reality that no matter how difficult the situation becomes, Kenna will never be able to speak up about it. Because the woman in question is _Mary_, and she is a _queen_. Kenna, on the other hand, is a fallen mistress.

But when she feels the desperation of his kisses increase, and he suddenly can't look her in the eye, she sheds that title for another: wife. She is his _wife_. And _that _is a title she's never had before. It's also a title that she will never have to share with anyone - not even Mary. He is her _husband_. _Hers _and no one else's.

She remembers, in that moment, the feel of his lips trailing down her body. _There's still more that I want you to forget… I want you to forget every boy who ever smiled at you. EVery man who ever flirted with you. Everyone but _me.

"Look at me," she pleads. "Am I the only one in this bed with something to forget?"

He pauses, "What do you mean?" And finally, he tilts his head up and his eyes find hers.

"When you're with me," she pushes his hair from his face, "I want to be the only one inside your head." He doesn't answer, but he kisses her neck, his body beginning to move against her again. It's not the response she wants. She tightens her grip and forces him back. "I want you to look into my eyes and see only me. I want you to always remember what I feel like," she runs her fingers across his jaw, and watches as his eyes soften, "so that when you're using your fingers from some other task, you wish they were touching me instead." The way hers ache for him.

"I will."

It's not enough. She pulls away slightly as he movs toward her again, their lips so close that as she speaks they run across one another. "I want you to always remember what it feels like, to be with _your wife_."

His response is instantaneous. She can feel the shift in his mood in the split second that he gazes at her head on, his eyes bright and focused. He smiles at her, and she knows he's seeing _her_. She thinks, looking at him, that she could lose herself in this feeling between them forever.

When he kisses her, she realizes she's already been lost.

* * *

The morning after her first night with Henry, she felt shame and doubt. She woke in his arms, but felt lonelier than she'd ever felt. The morning after her first night with Bash, she wakes with an unfamiliar warmth in her chest. There's a feeling of security she's never known before when his arm around her waist tightens in his sleep and buries his face in her neck.

She sighs happily, running her fingers across the back of his hand as she settles back into their shared pillow. Then his hand begins to drift south, and she laughs.

"You're not asleep."

"Sleep is a waste of time," he says against her skin. "I'd rather be touching you."

She feels a shiver run down her spine at his words. "Well," she says, gasping as his hands continue their exploration of her skin, "by all means."

They don't leave their bed for most of the day. She discovers that the fire between them is not easily extinguishable. She turns in his arms and hopes that never changes.

She discovers that giving herself away physically is far less challenging or frightening than opening herself up emotionally. As the days pass, she finds herself wanting to tell Bash all the secret inner workings of her heart and mind, but each time she opens her mouth to speak, fear stops her. She will admit, at least to herself, that his judgement frightens her. She's made so many mistakes… what if he doesn't understand?

And to make matters worse, he is equally silent about his past. She knows that they agreed to keep the past in the past, but she's convinced they need to discuss it. Staying silent is making them both fill in all the blanks with torturing thoughts and conclusions. It's making her mad with jealousy. She isn't sure if she's afraid or hopeful that he feels the same.

* * *

Everything goes to hell a month or so after their first night together.

There's a party to celebrate to celebrate the arrival of some nobles that are distant relatives of the Queen. As usual, there's dancing and dresses and court dramatics. Keena is in the ballroom standing beside Greer. Her friend is trying to be subtle as she glances this way and that, looking away from Lord Castleroy to glance over at Leith. Leith, who returned from the war to stand by Francis' side as a new found friend and ally. Leith, who arrived just a few short weeks before Greer's wedding to throw everything into turmoil with his newly minted title and lands.

Kenna reaches for her friends hand in sympathy, but doesn't say anything. Words, she's learned, are sometimes more trouble than they're worth.

Out of habit, she searches for Bash's familiar head of brown hair in the crowd. Her furrows brow as she realizes, he's nowhere to be found. He'd stepped away just a few minutes earlier to fetch them both drinks. She's considered, of course, that he might have gotten distracted on his way back to her, but it isn't like Bash to run off without at least excusing himself first.

"Greer," she asks, "do you see Bash?"

Her friend tears her eyes away from Leith long enough to scan the room. "No, I don't." She shrugs in dismissal, "He's likely just stepped away for a minute. Don't be so anxious."

She nods, "Yes, of course you're probably right."

But there's a feeling in the pit of her stomach that she can't shake, because Bash isn't the only person missing in the room.

Mary isn't there either.

She waits for fifteen minutes longer before making her excuses and slipping away from Greer. She makes her way out into the hallway, drifting this way and that with no real idea of what she even intends to find.

And then she hears it - the murmur of Bash's voice. It's a tone she's learned to recognize clearly, because it's one she hears most every night in their bedroom. She steps around the corner just in time to see Sebastian reach for her queen, tucking her into his arms with a familiarity that literally makes her feel ill.

Mary does not shy away from his embrace, rather tucking himself into his arms as she sighs. "I've changed so much," she says, "I wish sometimes that I could go back."

Kenna hates everything about that moment. She hates the warmth in Bash's eyes. She hates her queen for being so perfect. And more than anything, she hates her complete inability to do much more than stand there silently. Because she's once more reminded that Mary is her queen, and she is nothing more than a discarded mistress.

"Kenna, what are you-"

Kenna spins around to silence her friend, but it's too late. Mary and Sebastian have jumped apart in surprise, and Sebastian's eyes as they look at her are a mix of panic and guilt. Greer, for her part, reaches for Kenna's hand and squeezes. Her friend does not say anything.

"Kenna," Mary is the first to react to the betrayal that Kenna knows is displaying across her entire expression. "This isn't what it looks like. Bash was just helping me solve a dispute with the Queen. I wasn't sure if Francis-"

"You are my queen," Kenna interrupts, "you owe me no explanation."

And with her head held high, she turns and walks away.

* * *

**A/N: It's not over yet! **


	2. Chapter 2

**The Forgotten Ones**

**Chapter 2**

Bash does not chase after her. She isn't sure why she thought he might - after all, she isn't Mary - but it still hurts an hour later when she finds herself curled up alone in bed crying silently.

_Why? Why did she have to fall in love with him? _

She sniffles and wipes at her face in a most undignified way.

_Why did he have to love Mary?_

She hears the door open, finally, and the familiar fall of Bash's boots against the floor as he steps inside their quarters. The door shuts quietly.

"Kenna?" His voice is hardly above a whisper.

She closes her eyes and attempts to even out her breathing. She silently tells herself that if he's come to tell her he simply cannot help himself and loves Mary, he can at least have the decency to wait until the morning.

"Kenna," he says her name again, and she fights the urge to open her eyes.

She's afraid to look at him, because she knows that when she sees the quiet sincerity in his eyes, she won't even be able to hate him for destroying her.

"Kenna." The question has disappeared from his tone as he says her name, and she knows he's seen through her ruse. It is only a matter of minutes before she is forced to open her eyes and confirm his suspicions, and yet, she squeezes them resolutely shut.

She replays the scene with Mary over and over again in her mind in a failed attempt to strengthen her resolve, steeling herself against him as much as she can before her resolve falters.

His hand settles on the curve of her waist and his body settles onto the bed. This time, when he speaks, his words are hot against her skin. "Kenna."

She shivers, because her body is nothing if not a traitor, and at last, she opens her eyes.

He's leaning over her with the same sincere expression she thought he might be, and there's an apology hidden somewhere in the depths of his eyes.

He doesn't speak again. Instead, he searches her face as though he is hunting for something. She knows he won't find what he's looking for.

They never do.

To her everlasting surprise, she speaks first. "You promised." She hates herself for sounding so weak. "_We _promised. The past… we said it would stay in the past. You can't expect me to-"

He silences her with a kiss just as her voice is rising, and though she is furious with him, she allows his lips to part hers and his hand to slip beneath her neck and pull her away from the pillows and into his arms.

Bash draws back slightly, so his lips just barely brush hers as he speaks. "When I kiss you," he says, "I see _only _you. When I touch you," one hand settles on her thigh and begins to make its tortuous journey further up her body, "I think only of you. I want _you_, Kenna."

Slowly, the broken pieces of her heart begin to pull together once more. "Mary-"

"Is a ghost," he interrupts. "She is lost to me now. She is the past. _You _are my present."

She hears all the words hidden in those sentences. She knows he only wants her because Mary is no longer an option. Knows that she is his present, not through any decision of his own, but because his father demanded it should be so on penalty of both their lives.

She also knows she loves him, and that whether or not he loves Mary, her feelings are real.

"I-" she interrupts herself, because she knows she must rebuild her defenses. She is reminded of the time when she coaxed Lola to guard her heart and not allow love to conquer her own will. She realizes now that it is far easier to give advice than it is to follow it. "Promise me," she says, swallowing the _I love you _lingering on her lips.

His body moves to cover hers entirely, his lips burning a path along her skin. "I promise. You," he kisses her shoulder, his hands tugging her nightgown aside, "I want only you."

She closes her eyes, and dreams that it's true.

* * *

She wakes the next morning to the sound of his voice. He's standing in the doorway, and when she opens her eyes she can see the face of an unfamiliar man on the other side of the threshold. Bash has positioned himself like a soldier, standing between her and danger, but she can just make out the plain clothing that marks him as a worker.

The stranger gives a curt bow as he turns to leave, "Of course, my lord. Right away."

"Bash?" The covers fall in a tangle around her waist as she sits up in their bed, "Who was that?"

He turns back to her, his green eyes softening. "Did I wake you?" He asks, coming to sit beside her once more. He reaches for her hand, and she relishes the feel of his skin against hers as she always does.

"No, of course not. But who was that?"

A smile blossoms on his face. It is not the reserved smile she has grown accustomed to. This smile is reminds her off the one she's seen on Charles's face when he looks at a new toy - excited and unreserved.

"Bash," she reaches up to touch his face. "What is it?" She laughs as she looks at him, the gentle lilt a sound of pure joy rather than humor.

"That," he says, "was one of the men who has been doing the repairs on our estate. They've almost finished." He pauses dramatically, his eyes sweeping her face as though he wishes to catch each and every emotion as it passes through her eyes.

Kenna feels her heart leap into her throat. "Truly?" She says, "I didn't even know they had begun!"

Bash smiles at her, and she feels it in her bones. "I wanted to surprise you."

"Bash!" She pulls his lips down to hers, kissing him firmly. "Bash, you wonderful man. You're perfect!" She kisses him again, simply for good measure.

When he does things like this, it is hard to maintain her distance and easy to forget that he does not love her.

"Hardly," he laughs, leaning his forehead against hers. "You have not seen it yet."

She recognizes the teasing in his voice, "Well, I suppose there _is _the chance that it might not be up to _my _standards."

He laughs again, and she's simply too caught in the sound to care about anything else. There's something entirely pleasant about knowing she has the power to draw such a playful sound from him.

"Thank you," she says.

He smiles at her. "You're welcome."

"Can we go see it? Oh, Bash, I want to see it!" Now she is the one with the child's excitement in her voice.

His expression drops slightly, "Soon. I must go… I've prepared another trip outside of the castle. It should not be more than a few weeks. When I return, I promise I will take you."

Her heart sinks. "Are you hunting for The Darkness again? Bash, you've hardly spent more than a week here at a time. You need to rest. At least a few more days…"

"I can't," he says, and the frustration is clear in his voice. "Every day I wait means death to another innocent. Kenna… I can't."

Once, as a girl, she had dreamed of a man so noble and strong that he would defend her from every threat. She knows now that Bash is that man, but she wishes that his strength were less, and he would stop trying to defend the whole world. Every time he leaves her arms, the fear she feels increases. The desperation and the loneliness mount in her heart until she no longer knows what is what. The world as she knew it before their marriage no longer exists, and she fears what will happen to what is left of her spirit if he does not return.

"Please…" She isn't sure what she's asking for, but she begs regardless.

"Kenna," he kisses her forehead gently, "it will only be a few weeks. I promise you, when I return, I will take you to our new home. We will be free of this darkness. We will start over." His lips trail down to find hers. "I will take you away from here, I promise."

She's heard many promises from many men, and most of them were empty. She chooses to believe this one is not.

* * *

They spend most of the morning in one another's arms, enjoying their last few hours together until Bash departs once more for the cold welcome of the blood wood. She relishes his warmth as she lays with him, tucked against his body and listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. Though it's barely midday, she finds it's increasingly difficult to keep her eyes open.

In the moments they are together like this, Kenna can forget about the past. Forget about her demons and his. They exist in a world apart, and in the safety of their room, there can be nothing but peace. It's a sensation she never felt with Henry, and she is certain she could never replicate it with another man either.

"I'm sorry," Bash's voice cuts through the silence.

She lifts her head from his chest, "What?"

"I'm sorry," he says again. "For what happened. I didn't mean to hurt you."

She has never in her entire life heard a man apologize. Hearing it now as is disorienting as it is painful. Painful because in apologizing to her, he has acknowledged that he has done something to hurt her. Painful because it forces her to confront the truth once more: she will never be Mary.

Kenna stiffens in his arms at the reminder, her mind racing as she tries to think of a proper response.

Bash's arm tightens around her, and his eyes are frustrated. "I do not… I do not say these things to hurt you. I only want to be fair to you."

She laughs bitterly. "When has my life ever been fair?" The question is purely rhetorical. She expects no response and no empathy, but when she forces herself to meet his gaze once more, she finds his eyes are warm.

"Why did you...with my father...why did you…?" He can't seem to force himself to complete his question, and for the first time she _sees _rather than suspects that this isn't easy for him either.

She sighs, dropping her chin to his chest and tracing idle patterns in his skin as she speaks. "Greer complains that her father is overbearing and controlling. He watches her, demands things of her, suffocates her. She thinks it's awful."

"What…"

"She does not know," Kenna continues, acting as though he'd never spoken up, "what it is to suffer your own father's indifference. He is overbearing, but he also protects her. Uses her, perhaps, but within reason. My father never even looked at me if we did not have visitors. When I was a little girl, I used to stand at his side for hours, just waiting for him to look at me." She swallows the knot in her throat, "He never did. And my brothers… they saw how he treated me, and they learned that I did not have much worth. And perhaps… they were right."

Bash's other arm comes to settle around her, pulling her closer to his body so that she is nearly on top of him.

"Kenna, I…"

"Henry _looked _at me. Wanted _me_. And I thought, perhaps…"

"He might love you."

She nods. "But he did not."

He leans forward to place a kiss to her forehead. There's no urgency or fire behind his kiss when his lips find hers. It is the slow kiss of someone trying to convey a message. His hand finds its way to her hair, and when he pulls back, his eyes are blazing not with passion, but with something else she's never seen before. "Those men did not deserve you."

She gives a light laugh, "No, they did not." She says it with the practiced confidence of someone who has spent their life pretending.

"Kenna," he gives her a small shake, "they did not deserve you." He kisses her again. "I am sorry, if I made you feel as though I did not care. It is not my wish to hurt you. Mary is the past. My feelings for her… they are not what they were before."

It's not a declaration of love, but it still makes her heart sing. "No, of course not. She's with your brother now."

"No," he shakes his head. "It isn't that. It's… So much has changed. She and I, we are not the people I thought we were. She is not the girl I thought I loved. Even if Francis did not stand in my way, I would not be with her. Not now. The past," he says, "it _is _in the past."

She studies him. Studies each crease in his brow and the shape of his lips. Studies him for any sign that he might be lying. She's seen and learned them all. But he is a better liar than she's ever known or he is being truthful, because his expression is open and honest. His eyes are soft.

"I promised that when I returned I would take you to our new home, and I will. I will take you away from all of this. Away from Henry and all the demons in this castle. We will start our life together. I promise."

She thinks her heart might burst for happiness. "Hurry back to me," she pleads.

* * *

Mary appears in her quarters just a few hours after Bash has left the castle. Her eyes are apologetic, and in her hands Kenna sees a delicate plate filled with her favorite types of pastries. Mary holds them before her like a peace offering as she enters.

"I thought I might come… see how you were," Mary begins, and Kenna can see her trying to find the right words. "I know that Bash has left, and I saw your face yesterday. I know you said… I _am _your queen, Kenna, but I'm also your friend. I'm sorry if what you saw hurt you."

Kenna notes the difference in Mary's apology to the one she received from Bash. In Mary's words, there is no unspoken promise that history will not repeat itself.

"You have Francis," anger makes Kenna bolder than she should be, "why must you have Bash also?"

Mary actually looks surprised. "I do not have Bash."

"You want him, though. Yesterday, you went to him."

The Scottish queen doesn't argue, and Kenna can see her thoughts racing as she tries to formulate a response. "It was only… Francis and I, we are both so intricately tied to our countries. We pretend, sometimes, that we can be just a boy, and just a girl. Only, we can _never _be that. I will never be just Mary.

I've made so many decisions these last few weeks, Kenna. I've changed so much since Francis left to war. I feel as though the part of me that could pretend and dream has broken. Sebastian always saw that part of me, even when I didn't. I think perhaps, yesterday, I had hoped he might help me find it again."

Kenna nods, slowly. "I know that things have been...difficult. But, he is _my husband_. And I have never been comfortable sharing what is mine."

Mary's eyes flash in understanding, "You love him."

Kenna meets her gaze directly. "I love him. And I know that he loves you, but I know also that you love Francis. Do not continue to hurt him like this. You will destroy him. You will destroy _me_."

The Queen of Scotland looks away, "I know."

* * *

Kenna knows that her instincts are not particularly maternal the way some women's are. Still, the young boy sitting before her now softens her heart in an entirely new and unfamiliar way. Even after she's washed the blood and dirt off his face, and he's changed into a fresh set of clothing, his eyes reflect far too much pain and confusion for one so young.

She tries to imagine what those eyes have seen as she takes his small hands in hers. Was it his parents' blood he wore? What had The Darkness subjected him to?

She speaks to him in soft tones, filling the silence of the room with her own voice as she tries to discern just where this child has come from. Nostradamus and Bash had made their own attempts earlier, with sharp tones and blunt questions, but she knows the boy needs coaxing. He needs to feel safe.

Bash appears in the doorway, and she shakes her head at him. _Not yet._

And then, finally, the child lifts his eyes to look at her. "Visegard," he says.

"What's Visegard?"

"A bad place in the mountains. He took me there." The child speaks in a tone that is direct and to the point, as though he wishes that speaking the words were enough to rid him of the memory.

"Who?" Kenna asks.

"The man with the sharp teeth."

She had known the answer, of course. Still, the confirmation that this boy has been within arm's reach of the man who has caused so much death and destruction makes her ill. She lifts her eyes to look at Bash, and feels the unease in the pit of her stomach grow. His eyes have grown hard. They flash with determination, and almost unconsciously, his hand goes to the sword still hanging at his side.

Kenna wants to scream. This man has ordered people _sacrificed. _He has killed within paces of a complete innocent. She knows there is nothing sacred for such a monster, and she fears what will happen to Bash. She wants only to run away with him, to be safe with him, but as she opens her mouth to speak, the child squeezes her hand.

By the time she looks back to the doorway, Bash is gone.

She tucks the blankets around the boy's sleeping form and takes off after Bash as soon as she's able to. He's standing in the corridor with Nostradamus discussing the situation, and the anxious excitement in his voice is enough to affirm her fears. He is one man against a monster, and yet he seems to believe that he is invisible.

"You don't even know where this place is!" She can't understand for a second why he is so hell bent on saving the world. She wishes he would stop and realize she only wants him to save _her_. "You said when you returned that you would take me to our new home. That you would get me away from Henry." Sayings the words makes her feel vulnerable in a way she has never been before, but they tumble out of her mouth regardless. Nostradamus shifts uncomfortably behind her husband.

Bash turns to face her, stepping toward her and taking her hands in his. His eyes soften, "You're right. Pack your things. We'll leave tonight."

There's a knot in the pit of her stomach that says he has agreed to easily. That reminds Kenna that she is not much of a prize, and that the men in her life have always lied and manipulated. But the man in front of her is Bash, and she wishes to believe he means what he says.

She kisses him quickly, then turns and runs to their quarters before he can realize what he has done and change his mind.

* * *

She tells the boy the castle governess will take far better care of him than she ever could. She isn't lying. Motherhood may be in her future, but it seems only yesterday that Bash implied that she was the most selfish woman in all of France, and she knows that on occasion, it may well be true. Yet, the boy looks at her with such a heartbreaking mix of adoration and fear, she finds that herself desperate to ease his pain.

She hands him her small cross. A gift from her mother when she left Scotland. The memory is clear in her mind as she gazes at it. Her mother, full of tenderness and love as always. Her father, on the other hand, could not have been bothered to see her off.

Yet, even after he takes it in his tiny hand, his eyes are filled with fear.

"You worship the _gods_," she realizes. It makes her ill to realize that there are some who would do a child harm for being born into a different religion. "I don't care," she tells him. "Would you like to come and stay with me?"

There's an unfamiliar warmth in her chest when he nearly throws himself at her, his small arms wrapping around her frame with all the strength he can muster. She knows then that she's made the right choice. There are some that might judge based on faith and practice, but Kenna has seen too much. Henry… Her father… So many men that claim to be the righteous servants of God, but who serve nothing but their own interest. Looking at the boy - Pascal - she cannot imagine ever judging him for a decision he never truly made.

Bash is waiting for her before the carriage as she approaches, Pascal's hand tucked into her own.

* * *

"Pascal is coming with us, if that's alright with you." She tilts her chin in defiance because she's afraid of what he'll say. He is her husband, and she's just volunteered them to care for a child that isn't there.

"Of course. He'll be in good hands," there's something in the way Bash refuses to look her in the eye that makes her uneasy. He pauses for a prolonged moment. "As will you." There's movement behind her, and she looks over her shoulder to find a string of soldiers standing at the ready. "These men will accompany you home, and stand guard until I return."

The fury that erupts in her is instant. _Lies, lies, lies - could she never escape them?!_

"I knew this would happen. You're going to find Visegard aren't you?"

Bash kneels in front of Pascal, and she nearly wants to scream. "If I find the man with the sharp teeth, I'll make it so he can never hurt you again. I promise."

How dare he make such a promise? How dare he promise such a thing to a _boy _when he could not even keep his promise to her, his wife?

"Pascal, would you go wait for me in the carriage please?" She fights to keep her voice calm until Pascal has settled into the carriage. Bash turns to face her, and she unleashes her fury. "I actually believed you. I believed you when you said you wanted us to have a life together, but this is our future. You breaking your word and abandoning me to an empty home so you can run off and be the hero." Always the hero, but never _her _hero.

He almost seems surprised by her words. "You think I want this?"

She pushes back the tears that spring to her eyes. "I don't know what you want!" She cries. "Maybe you're just not suited to domestic life." Looking at him now, she wonders if she isn't destined to relive her mother's downfall. Alone in a solitary house, waiting for husband to return in order to provide him with his every need, only to be abandoned once more a week later. She knows, if that is their future, she will not survive it.

She realizes now that Bash has only revealed pieces of himself. She knows only what she has managed to pull together through experience, but his hopes and dreams are as foreign to her now as they were before their marriage. She clenches her jaw in defiance. "Maybe neither of us are." Better to guard her heart, to reestablish her defenses, then allow him to see the pain he has caused.

There's an edge in Bash's voice she's never heard before when he speaks. "For all your confidence, I think you've seen yourself as the plaything of others. I know you were handed to me like an object." She wonders if she's imagined the tremor in his voice. "A punch line for what we both thought was a cruel joke. But this marriage is no longer something that happened to me. It's…" He trails off for a moment, "_You _are what I want."

She raises her eyes to search his. His face is open and earnest, and his green eyes are pleading. He reaches for her, "I want to come back to you. I just have to finish this first."

For a moment, the world seems to cease spinning. Bash is looking at her as though she is his last pillar of hope. As though she is the only thing that keeps him steady. It's the most vulnerable and open she's ever seen him, and the sight of him so weakened is enough to rip her heart open.

She kisses him, "Then come back to me. Or I'll kill you myself."

* * *

**A/N: Thank you all for your reviews! You guys are amazing and I'm kind of overwhelmed by the response I got for the first chapter. Hopefully, chapter 2 doesn't disappoint - I'm not positive how I feel about this chapter, but I didn't want to make you guys wait another week. Reviews are love :) **


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